My dear friend,
The proverbial glass has not been half empty but actually floating in space with the entire contents in liquid droplets surrounding it, shimmering like diamonds glittering in the dark (“near the Tannhauser gate”*), there, shiny and promising, but suspended in emptiness. I think I’m probably not alone in having felt like that at one time or another? I think at times we all succumb to feelings of sorrow that lift the anchor and set us adrift for a while, but as a result I’ve been finding it hard to write lately. I spend a long time arguing with myself on whether I should write things like this in posts or not, it’s akin to the most unintelligible cartoon sounding arguments / phone calls (Charlie Brown and Pingu come to mind here). I then realise that I write to you from a place of connection and love and that if life were a book, it wouldn’t be simple and level plain sailing, would it? Some times we have to navigate choppy waters together to get to the good stuff, and that’s ok, necessary even. Plus, there are no sex scandals, political dramas or murders here, so I guess it adds a bit of something?
* If you’re not familiar, it’s one of the best pieces of cinematic history in my opinion and you can see it quite out of context here.
I could write for days and days trying to dissect and beautify the whys and wherefores, but between a stillbirth and a life changing accident it’s become abundantly clear that April is not my friend. She is a cruel thief masquerading as something else, hiding behind the sunshine paparazzi (daffodils make me think of a flash bulb photographer crowd of cartoon suns) and here to take and never give. She is the bully lurking around the corner waiting to pound on you when you think you are safe. She is the miserable lingering start to the year that means that in earnest, my New Years Day is more like 1st May. (Happy New Year’s Day everyone!). But that is all the kind of thinking that led to the lost in space with no gravity or tether to pull me back to life feelings. And it’s all made all the more dramatic by listening to songs with lyrics so full of hyperbole that they are overflowing the bath tub and coming through the floorboards to the room below (because hyperbole makes me think of a really frothy bubble bath scenario for some strange reason).
So, putting all that aside and starting simple, because I know it will all get better eventually (and please know that if you too are struggling with something, no feeling is final and please do DM me if you need to talk) and that I need to fill that glass up, here are some simple today things to dispel the demons and begin the journey of anchoring myself after being adrift so long…
Today I…
Started Journaling.
Or morning pages. Or something. I have always written with purpose before. To communicate / inform / entertain / whatever. This morning I put some music on and felt like writing. I never usually have sound on whilst writing, it hurts my head too much, but it seemed to act as a catalyst and all sorts of things started to exit my mind and body, it felt like the same relief that crying provides**. It felt like letting go a little bit and my mood has been better today for it. I’m not great at consistency but I will try to make this a frequent thing. I’d love to know if you journal / write in a similar way and whether it’s a part of your daily routine or you just do it when something is particularly bothering you.
** Did you know that cortisol (stress hormone) leaves your body in tears? That’s why you feel better after crying some times.
Went on a Cow Parsley hunt and got more than I bargained for.
After a decently paced walk along the roads to the reservoir I rounded the corner into the lane where all the cow parsley grows to be met with the sight of a deer.
Now I come to recall the encounter, this thing is the size of a fully formed Patronus - larger than life. My photos that I managed to snap before it scarpered inform me otherwise. Maybe it’s that by that time it had already gotten quite far away and so seemed smaller? I’m sticking with the magical vision I have. What a gift.
Found Cow Parsley in flower!
It’s still frequently end of winter cold around here. I see the line of smoke drifting up from the chimney stack of the house opposite that tells me my feelings on temperature are valid and not imagined (because - APRIL - why is it still so cold? I must surely be making it up) but there is cow parsley in flower, and so it must be Spring. Cow parsley is, to me, a beacon of hope. Daffodils are part of the mean month, but cow parsley is the dreamy stuff that exists in billowy clouds along hedgerows and roadsides ushering summer in. You can read more about my love of the stuff here.
Took in the landscape like a tourist.
And have seen things that I have walked past hundreds of times and paid no notice of. I heard the gurgling of the canal overspill too - altogether more bucolic than I’ve made it sound. Perhaps I’ll write more on the enchantment of that some other time. I strongly recommend this practice though. It made a London trip that I’ve made stacks of times before seem all the more magical too. I have taken the everyday for granted far too often and it has been a joy seeing things with fresh eyes. No passport needed, just an open heart.
Took a deep dive into some lyrics and found something that is both disturbing and interesting in equal measure.
The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift has been a total gift. And supplier of all my ear worms of the past week. Her voice has notes of Tori Amos at times and makes me feel like a teen again, but, I digress.
Let’s not sugar coat it, this is not entry level Swift, 1989 it is not. It is introspective and melancholy and the most upbeat sounding song on the album is actually quite brutal, but it is also all lyrically brilliant and full of layered meaning. I’m not the kind of person that prints out the lyrics and annotates them (yet, and yes, that’s a thing) but if something interests me, you bet I’m looking it up.
“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” has such a line that caught my imagination.
“Til the circus life made me mean. Don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth”
I saw suggestions that it referenced the practice of removing the teeth of circus animals so that they are less dangerous, but I also found this became common practice for a while in the 1910’s - 1930’s for the treatment of mental patients to remove the root of insanity. If a tooth was infected, that must be the cause of mental illness of course. Virgina Woolf herself had a few removed for this reason. It seems that the practice frequently went beyond teeth too and extended to organs!
Not today…
I finished reading a book.
That’s a joyously strange headline I never knew I’d have cause to write. I’ve been reading said book since August last year. In truth, I’ve probably read it four times or more because I had to keep re-reading parts to make it make sense. For someone who previously could happily plough through a book in a weekend, this has been a slog. After the head injury I’ve had to re-learn a few things (shan’t bore you with the detail here, maybe that’s for a separate post, would that be interesting?), I think reading anything of length is going to be a re-learn too. On the flip side of this, there are many picture books that are brilliantly done and a joy to “read” as an adult. That is most definitely a different post.
Also not today…
I started experimenting with food again.
I go through phases with cooking, an ebb and flow of interest and experimentation to a tuna pasta bake rut. Quite randomly it was Record Store Day that has me fired up again. I bought Buena Vista Social Club on vinyl and it feels like bringing a holiday into the house. Travel has always been an inspiration in cooking for me, if not an actual geographical shift, the learning of other cultures and places through their food. Find a restaurant that is run / cooked for by people of the food it serves and it’s as good as a holiday.
I started a list of things I’ve been loving lately but that threatened to take this to tome proportions instead of a letter, I’ll write again soon.
I made you a mix tape since I last wrote. The Tortured Poets of My Teenage Years. I promise there’ll be less Tortured Poets going on with the next thing I write. Probably. But have you listened to it (TTPD that is)? And the Anthology? What do you think? If you couldn’t care less about Taylor Swift, I get it, I was with you until a year ago. Some times things arrive in our lives that we didn’t know we needed until they begin to fix things. Some times we’ve encountered those things many times before but it hasn’t been the right time for them to stick. Some times those things take the form of what you previously thought was kid pop (oh, how wrong I was). Life is mysterious like that.
I hope Spring is treating you well? In the few days it’s taken me to write this (because my brain can’t edit / let go of things / just function really at this point) it’s gone from being minus two overnight to a t-shirt and shorts sixteen degrees today. Everything is bright vivid shades of sure of itself and I can’t wait for more sunshine days outside rather than bundled up in rain wear ones.
Thanks for being here on this journey with me. How are things with you?
With love,
V.V
Still with me? I love writing letters, but even more I love getting them back.
Leave a comment and tell me what today things have been brightening your days. Let me know what you found by being a tourist in your own back yard. What has been bringing you joy to listen to?
It’s not quite a letter back, but I’d love it all the same.
If you know someone who you think would enjoy this post, please do pass it on.
Beautiful writing Nicole. Sad and poignant, hopeful and full of promise. Love it. Emily xx
Lovely writing Nicole. I'm with you on April - a terrible month so full of promise yet it rarely fails to deliver. Happy New Year!